The Mirror
by Padfoot's Soul
Summary: Post OOTP. (Spoilers) Harry is now in his seventh year at Hogwarts, and starts to wonder about Sirius again… but this time he stumbles upon an old gift that may just help him remember. (I'm new here, so this is just a one-shot. No flames.)


**The Mirror**  
_By Padfoot's Soul_  
  
Summary- Post OOTP. (Spoilers) Harry is now in his seventh year at Hogwarts, and starts to wonder about Sirius again... but this time he stumbles upon an old gift that may just help him remember. (I'm new here, so this is just a one-shot. Constructive criticism allowed, no flames.)  
  
A/N: Hey everyone! If you look in my profile-thingy, it claims that I haven't written any stories. Well, I have, just not on this username. I'm PersonY2K on the Lizzie McGuire fics; I just decided to have a new username for this. And if you are a LM L/G fan, please read my stories! I just love new reviewers! Oh, and please don't flame... I'm only twelve!  
  
Well, the main reason I wrote this fic is because I just recently finished reading all of the books and was so mad when Sirius died. It was crushed. I brooded about it for days. Sirius was my favorite character! So I decided to write this to ease the pain a little, to assure myself that he wasn't totally gone. I know, I'm weird. And I'm not sure if this idea has been used before, but if it has, I definitely didn't copy it. This is my own original thinking. I don't really know that much about HP (except for what happened in the books), so please excuse my lack of continuity if there is some.  
  
What I really like about this section of ff.net is that it's not all love and romance, and that a story doesn't have to be long to get lots of reviews. It just has to be good. And plus, there are tons of Sirius-lovers like me here! But what's with all the slash??  
  
Although this is not my first fic (far from it), it is my first non-romance fic, and my first Harry Potter fic. My stories all have different vibes, more like a happy-romantic nothing's-sad no-one-dies sort of things, but I guess this is my first shot at angst and sadness. I mean, the story isn't sad, not really, but much sadder than my other fics. Who knows, if I do well on this story, maybe I'll write more for HP.

---  
  
Snow was drifting about, whirling in the bitter December wind, causing the temperatures to drop severely, but despite that, there was a jolly feeling in the air, something that only came once a year. People were packed into their houses with family, celebrating and tearing open presents, while stuffing their mouths with all they could eat. There was no doubt it was Christmas in Little Whinging.  
  
Regardless of all the merriment that was set to take place that day, it was a day like any other for Harry Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive. Stranded up in his room with nothing to do but talk to the shadows and stare down at the books he was supposed to be studying, while the Dursleys watched the Christmas parade on the television set downstairs and ate their hearts away, Harry felt the worst he had all year.  
  
He hadn't intended to spend the Christmas holidays with the Dursleys. All year he had been looking forward to another warm and happy Christmas at Hogwarts, exchanging gifts with Ron and Hermione, not a care in the world. It was their last year together, after all. He wished he knew what had happened, but even being a seventh year, he had no idea. Dumbledore had refused to tell anyone but the staff, and made an announcement that it was required for all students to go home for Christmas. Harry's heart had sunk at that thought. He hadn't spent a Christmas at Privet Drive since before he had found out he was a wizard.  
  
The Dursleys had made it clear that he was not to show his face that day. They had said he was lucky that they even let him stay in the house on Christmas. Harry had almost snorted at that, for he knew that they had to let him stay. They wouldn't dare kick him out, especially now that he was seventeen, and free to do magic whenever he pleased.  
  
Harry, at first, had the urge to just Disapparate from his room, but something had held him back. He wasn't a coward, that was for sure, but it was something else, something he just couldn't explain. So he stayed. At least tomorrow he could at least leave his room, but then again, where would he go? In summers he spent his time outside, but that was off limits now, due to that freezing cold that just didn't seem to go away.  
  
He sighed, took out a book from his trunk, and cracked it open. He could at least try to absorb some information, for he'd need it later on in the year when he took his N.E.W.T.s. This year had been a blur of Quidditch and studying, mostly studying. From Potions to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry had committed himself almost as much as Hermione (and she was Head Girl), to pursue his dreams of becoming an Auror. He had never really been the schoolwork type, but this was important. This was his future. And yet he couldn't understand a single word the book was attempting to tell him. He just didn't get it, and more to the point, he just didn't care. Not now, anyway, when Dudley was allowed to enjoy the feast and he wasn't.  
  
He threw the book at the foot out his bed and it landed with a loud thud. Nothing was fair anymore. He couldn't celebrate Christmas, he couldn't know what was going on at school, and he was stuck in this terrible place, getting bored out of his mind. He reached under his bed and felt around until his fingers brushed across a book. He grabbed it and pulled it up onto his bed. It was his photo album.  
  
Harry's expression changed a slight bit, and for a moment there he almost smiled. As he flipped through pages of his album, examining pictures of Ron and Hermione, smiling and moving around, pictures of school and the professors and other students there, Harry dived into a sea of happiness as warm memories flooded through him, and he forgot all that was unfair. Lost in a trance, Harry went vigorously through all of the pages, only to find the last few; pictures he knew would damage his sudden burst of delight. For a moment he hesitated to turn the page, but he decided it would make no difference, and found himself looking at a picture of his parents, both waving and grinning like there was nothing more they enjoyed in the world than to be in that picture. He felt his heart break but still rise at the sight of them, watching them grow up, staring misty-eyed at their smiling faces.  
  
He was now nearing the end of his album, but he stopped himself from closing it too soon, for there was one picture he was longing to see, the one with all three of the people he considered to be his. And so it came, on the third to last page, the picture of Lily and James Potter's wedding, the one with his godfather, Sirius Black, grinning joyfully among them as their best man. All three were the people he had loved most, and ironically, all three gone. Harry did not turn the page for quite awhile, indulged and absorbed in the photo, ignoring the heavy sounds of laughter drifting into his room.  
  
They had been so happy, so carefree, not knowing that their fate of death was just a few years away. And Harry's parents' death... well, he had gotten use to that over the course of sixteen years, but Sirius had died recently, and to make matters even worse, Harry had watched him die. The effect hadn't really hit him until later, when he remembered how jolly of a man Sirius was, even though he had been locked up in Azkaban for years. And always positive. Sometimes grouchy... but still positive. Killed off by Bellatrix Lestrange in a minute... it just didn't seem right. Or fair.  
  
If he could just talk to him, just for a minute or two, he could... he could... well, he wasn't sure what he could do, but seeing Sirius's face, his real face, not just a photo, would make Harry happy enough for it to last for years. Sirius had been more than a godfather to him; their relationship was somewhere between friends and brothers, and even though Sirius seemed to believe Harry was really James, they were close.  
  
Harry closed his photo album with a mixed sensation of relief and sadness with a dash of pain. He lay back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling. Was Sirius really dead? Or was the veil some sort of mysterious regenerator? Even after being through the Department of Mysteries, Harry didn't understand what they did there. He had a slight guess, but who knew? The brains... the memories... the veil... the smashed prophecy... the time- traveling head of the Death Eater... was the Department of Mysteries researching life... and death? The past and future? There was no way he could find out.  
  
He clenched his teeth and sighed, and admitted to himself the awful truth he had been dreading to confess since the thought struck him. If Sirius were alive, he would have contacted Harry. And he had written letters to Sirius and sent Hedwig to deliver them, but she always came back with the letter in her beak. But just maybe, he thought with a flicker of hope, Sirius couldn't answer. Maybe he was in a place where there were no methods of contacting other people.  
  
'Oh, who am I kidding?' he thought as he yawned and snuggled into his bed. 'Sirius is gone. There's no sense in denying it.'  
  
And with that thought, he drifted off into a midday rest.  
  
There was a flash.  
  
Harry woke to a start, bewildered as ever. A flash. He had seen a flash. Reliving Sirius's death, and then, a flash. In the Department of Mysteries. What was a flash doing in there? He rubbed his eyes and tried to think straight. It wasn't very bright, but it was definitely there. But how on earth did some mysterious flash make its way into Harry's dream? For he knew for a fact that there was no flash that night in the Department, not when Sirius was dying.  
  
It wasn't a lightning-type flash. Or a light-flickering flash. Or a Voldemort's-killing-curse flash. It was just there, out of nowhere, a flash of white light. Well... actually, it might have been a glare. Like when light hits metal. Or a diamond. Harry raised an eyebrow. Sirius wasn't wearing a diamond, well, maybe he was, but Harry doubted that. This was peculiar. Very peculiar. And the most peculiar thing about this dream wasn't the flash, but Harry's scar. It wasn't hurting, and usually it did after these awkward dreams.  
  
Harry shook his head and picked up his Care For Magical Creatures book. Maybe there was something in there that had the ability to get his mind off Sirius. He read for about ten minutes, then closed the book with a slam.  
  
"No offense, Hagrid," he said out loud. "but this is a bore."  
  
He threw the enormously heavy book into his trunk, and when he did, he heard something shatter. It sounded like glass breaking, but he wasn't too sure. He rushed over to the trunk and carefully took everything out, trying to find out what had caused the sudden noise, but he had gone through almost everything before realizing that there was nothing that would sound like that in his trunk. But then, his hand brushed across what felt like a shard of broken glass, and he emptied out the rest of the trunk to examine it closely.  
  
It was a mirror.  
  
Harry bit his lip. It was the mirror Sirius gave to him exactly two Christmases ago. It was supposed to keep contact between him and Sirius whenever you said his name to it, but he had only discovered it after Sirius had died. He had thrown it in his trunk where it shattered, and he was now discovering it after almost two years. He shivered as he stared at the smashed mirror. 'Something is wrong here.' He thought, sensing the puzzling tension around him. 'This mirror means something.'  
  
He took out his wand. "_Reparo_." He muttered, and the shards sprang to life, fitting themselves into the frame of the broken mirror.  
  
Harry blew on it to remove the dust that had formed over the time. It sprinkled into the air, and when he accidentally inhaled it, it made him cough. When his coughing fit was over (he prayed Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hadn't heard anything), he slowly picked it up and gazed at his reflection in the smooth glass. A tall seventeen-year-old boy stared back at him, a passionate and innocent expression cast upon his bespectacled and ever-so-pale face, a little altered by the intense scar on his forehead and the unruly mess on top of his head he liked to call hair.  
  
He blinked at himself and put the mirror down on the bed, and the setting sun bounced off of it and cast reflections of light upon the ceiling. This reminded him of something absurdly familiar, something he couldn't bring himself to recall. He frowned and slid off the bed, pressing his ear against the floor, trying to hear if the rest of the Dursley family had left yet. He still heard faint laughter and his frown deepened. He was so, so hungry. He hadn't eaten anything for almost a day now, and he could almost feel his body shriveling up, although the Dursleys had never really starved him for more than a day. Nevertheless, he was a growing boy. He needed food.  
  
He shook his head and listened to his stomach growl again. "Oh, would you just shut up!" He bellowed, sucking in his grumbling appetite. He could smell dinner being served, or maybe he was just imagining it. He was imagining noises, too, for he could've sworn that he heard a faint _tap tap tap_ against the window. He whirled around and looked up to see if something was there, and lo and behold, it was.  
  
Hedwig was flapping her wings like crazy, pecking against the window. Harry grinned. Of course! Ron and Hermione couldn't have forgotten to send him Christmas cards! He graciously opened the window and Hedwig flew in, four packages tied to her, along with four letters. She seemed incredibly exhausted, and was delighted at the water Harry offered her.  
  
He untied the packages and letters and opened the first one. It was from Ron.  
  
_Hi Harry! Merry Christmas! I hoped this got to you on time, Hedwig seemed really tired when she got here.  
  
This is weird, being back at the Burrow for Christmas. But I guess it's okay, since the whole family came home, even Charley, who could barely get time off from his dragons. Mum says that she wishes you were here. (She made another sweater for you, I'll give it to you at school.) So does everyone else, except for maybe Percy, who I think still doesn't like you.  
  
So how are those Muggles treating you anyway? I bet it's okay, right? I mean, Lupin, Moody, and Tonks told them off, right? But still... Dad says that your Muggles might not care. I hope he's wrong.  
  
How about Dumbledore, huh? He's acting pretty weird, not telling us what's going on. I bet it has something to do with You-Know-Who or the Order. I hope you don't get involved again, and if you do, I hope you don't drag me and Hermione into it with you. I do not want to get into another duel with some Death Eater again.  
  
Well, that's about all, see you in a week!  
  
Ron  
_  
Harry smiled. It felt so good to be in touch with his friends again. He put the package from Ron aside. He'd open his presents later.  
  
The next letter he read was from everyone at the Order. They all wished him a merry Christmas and everything, but not one word of what was happening at Hogwarts. Then came Hagrid's (and Grawp's), telling about his new pet Kippar, a rat. Harry sighed in relief at that. At least it wasn't another beast.  
  
The last letter he opened was Hermione's. He sat on his bed to read this one, since it was so lengthy. Typical Hermione.  
  
_Dear Harry,  
  
I wish you a very merry Christmas!  
  
How have your winter holidays been so far? Mine are going great. I've been studying about four or five hours a day. Hopefully you're doing the same... N.E.W.T.s are very important, especially if you're still planning on becoming an Auror. I think that's fascinating, and you really are suitable for the job, but you need to work harder in school, don't you think?  
  
My parents have taken off time from their usual dentistry activities to take me to Paris. We left our house about four or five days ago, and in those days here, I have completely fallen in love with all of the historical significance Paris holds. Have you ever been to a Muggle museum? It's quite interesting. I learned about so many new things, things they wouldn't teach at Hogwarts. It's nice to have a little break from the wizarding world, isn't it? Well, probably not for you, since you have to stay with those dreadful Dursleys. You have my sympathy.  
  
Are they taking proper care of you there? Feeding you, hopefully? I'd hate to see you come back to school thinner than a stick. And with any luck, they're letting you out of the house, because I could tell at school that you definitely need some fresh air.  
  
Oh, speaking of fresh air, it's very cold here in Paris. How about there? Well here, we are buried in snow. It's okay, though, since we're usually indoors. We went to an art museum a few days ago, and it was so enriching! There are so many good Muggle painters out there, and although the pictures don't move, they have a depth of their own. And Dad and I had tea at a tiny little coffee shop. The tea was exceptionally good. Paris is so exciting! I wish you were here!  
  
You know what? Although I've been having a wonderful time here, I keep on wondering why I am here in the first place. I mean, why were we all sent home for the holidays? And in our seventh year too... it was our last year together at Hogwarts. But more to the point, I think Voldemort is near the school. That really scares me, because we all know he's after you, and even now with the Ministry and everyone on your side, it still doesn't make you completely safe. Not to worry though, you're fine in the Dursleys' house. No one can hurt you there. And I strongly advise that you don't go looking for Voldemort. Promise you won't. We all know how you are...  
  
Back to Paris. You will never believe who I ran into while walking down the street to the Eiffel Tower. Malfoy. At first he just ignored me, but we were heading in the same direction, so he started shooting dirty comments at me. I think my parents were confused for quite a while until he went away and I told them who he was. Stupid Malfoy. I bet he's going to try to ruin the rest of my trip now.  
  
We also went shopping there, Mum and I. I usually don't enjoy shopping, but I decided to come, since I am sick of wearing Hogwarts robes and the other few things I have. And plus, Paris is known for it's amazing fashion, so I wanted to see what exactly people found so amazing. We bought a whole bunch of things, and I know that you don't really care about clothes, but the clothing here is remarkable! And confusing. I found these jeans that flashed blue and then silver every ten seconds. I didn't figure this out until I looked in the mirror, but it was so funny! My legs were flashing! And then I found a hat that sprouted a feather at the top every time you pressed a button. Such silly clown clothes they have! But I bought some decent things too.  
  
I can't wait for the rest of my trip! After Paris, my dad is taking me to London to look at some museums there. Again, I wish you were here! Well, see you in a week and don't do anything crazy, alright? Have fun! (If you can.)  
  
Your friend,  
  
Hermione  
_  
It took a while and a couple of re-reads, but after the third time through the letter, Harry dropped the letter and it fluttered down to his feet.  
  
Flashing. Mirror. Flashing. Mirror. The words spun around his head. Hermione hadn't known her pants flashed until he looked in the mirror. Mirror... Sirius's mirror. Flashing... the dream. The mirror had flashed. It had _flashed_. Sirius's mirror in his dream had flashed when her fell through the veil. It all made sense now. The pieces had come together, and the puzzle was complete.  
  
He ran toward his mirror, completely forgetting his packages and letters. He picked it up, held it far from his face, and yelled.  
  
"Sirius!" His voice boomed, echoing throughout his empty bedroom.  
  
The mirror lit up, and bright light streamed everywhere. Harry had to use all of his might to keep his eyes open, and through squinted eyes, he watched as the mirror became brighter and brighter, glowing with an intense light that seemed to have been generating from nowhere. He almost dropped the mirror in shock, but his grip tightened as the light started to descend little by little.  
  
'This is it!' He thought, beaming. 'I'm going to get to talk to Sirius!'  
  
There were so many things he wanted to talk about. Maybe Sirius knew something of why Dumbledore had sent them all home. Or maybe he knew what Voldemort was doing. Maybe he could help him get some food. Or, even better, maybe he wasn't dead and the veil was a passageway to life!  
  
A small, thin outline of a frail figure appeared on the glass. Harry studied it closely, but couldn't make out if it was Sirius or not. Suddenly, a transparent nose appeared, followed by eyes and a mouth and before he knew it, Sirius's face was staring at him in the mirror, hair and all.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry squeaked in glee. "Is that really you?"  
  
The mirror said nothing.  
  
"Talk, Sirius!" He urged, shaking the mirror. "Are you... dead?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry jumped at the sound of Sirius's voice. He hadn't expected him to answer back. But now that he had, Harry's heart soared. He smiled as his eyes lit up. He could speak to Sirius! His expression of boredom and pain differed into a bright face of happiness and delight. He had made contact with a dead person! After years or waiting, he could finally talk to his godfather again!  
  
He studied the background around Sirius, and realized it was all fogged up and blurry. "Where... where are you?"  
  
"That, I can't tell you." Sirius blinked. "But you can tell me where you are."  
  
"At the—the Dursleys."  
  
He smiled. "Ah, those Muggles. Are you all right there?"  
  
Harry gulped. "Um... I guess I'm okay. I'm starving though."  
  
"On Christmas Day! That's rubbish!"  
  
He shrugged. "Sirius, what are you doing?" He asked. "Are you in heaven?"  
  
"I can't say. The secrets of the dead are only for the dead."  
  
He frowned, but his eyes widened as he realized something. "But can I talk to you whenever I want, or is this just once? Because, I miss you, Sirius, and so does everyone else."  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't come back." Sirius smiled. "And you can't exactly talk to me _whenever_."  
  
"Wha-what?" Harry was crushed. His hopes had risen, only to be ground back into the earth again. He had been almost positive that he and Sirius could now contact each other.  
  
"You see, a communication between your world and mine takes an excessive amount of power." Sirius said sympathetically. "And that power can only be generated by a full moon, or on the day of a full moon."  
  
Harry looked at Sirius, puzzled. "So I can talk to you about every month?"  
  
"Yes." He grinned. "But you can't have anyone with you. And please don't tell Hermione or Ron. What we're doing here is almost illegal, and I don't want to get anyone else involved. I'm risking a lot for my favorite godson."  
  
Harry didn't answer. He didn't care. He was still trying to get over the shock of his discovery. A talk with Sirius, every month! For the rest of his life! So what if Ron and Hermione didn't know? This was still the best thing that had ever happened to him! Sirius was as good as alive! He really _hadn't_ gone away.  
  
He would've started dancing if he hadn't heard a fierce knock on the door. Sirius's eyes grew wide and he vanished from the face of the mirror in a quick flash, in not as nearly as large as the first flash had been. Harry walked toward the door and opened it, mirror still in hand.  
  
"Who are you talking to in there?" A purple-faced Uncle Vernon barked, and then noted his mirror. "To yourself, eh? Wishing you had friends? Getting acquainted with your reflection?"  
  
Harry didn't answer, but simple nodded. It wasn't because he was frightened of what Uncle Vernon would do, but because he didn't think it was worth making up an excuse for the reason he was so happy.  
  
"Here's some food, now eat up and _don't make a sound_, you hear me, boy?." He snarled gruffly. "Oh, and by the way, clean up this room. I don't want this rubbish lying around my house."  
  
"Okay." Harry said innocently, trying with all his might to stop from smiling.  
  
Uncle Vernon shut the door (Harry was sure that if they didn't have company, he would've slammed it). Harry grabbed a soggy cream biscuit, put his try next to Hedwig's cage, and fell onto the bed, sighing in happiness. Sirius, his second father, was back. He couldn't ask for any more. He grabbed a dirty old robe from a year ago and wrapped the mirror tightly in it, making sure it couldn't slip out and break, and placed it in his trunk safely under his hat.  
  
He plopped onto his bed with a book, but didn't really open it. He gazed at the window and watched snow drift down from the evening sky, and how the heavens seemed to be lit up by a whole different light although the sun was gone. The swirls of white circled around, sort of like a protective shield to the soft sky. Harry smiled.  
  
And up way high in heaven, his godfather, Sirius Black, smiled back.  
  
A/N: Like? Yes? No? Review and tell me what you think... I'll be more than happy to hear your comments! I loved writing this, it was so much different than anything else I've written... I hope you all love it too!!

-Padfoot's Soul


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